by Laura Lindeman
Monday was the first day back from spring break for Urbana (Illinois) High School students, and the first day without their classmate, 16-year-old Montrell Emery. Emery was shot and killed last week... About a mile away, the 14-year-old accused of Emery’s murder appeared in court via video conference. —WGN, March 21, 2022
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I know the victim! knew… Time in suspension For his extravagant antics: Bouncing down the halls, Bouncing words at teachers, Bouncing a few punches off the faces of his peers. But his smile races through a room Like lightning! Dreads dancing on his head with the energy of a Superbowl halftime show… He was mischief and enthusiasm and zest! But living in danger His speed and agility Weaving through the violence Not enough to protect him from the turbulence Of generations of white oppression’s Black destruction. Armed by his family False security in his sagging waistband. At sixteen—just smart enough To make irrational risk Look adventurous. Maybe this is why there used to be curfews? Reasoning of the prefrontal cortex not fully formed For another half dozen years; Which he won’t experience. His unique weapon—fancy firearm Not a secret. Proudly waved Like a flag… Or a dare. During the next news cycle I realize I also know the shooter. He took the dare; Captured the flag. Wanted the weapon of his friend. Like two-year-olds in a sandbox Tussling over a Tonka Truck. What did they say? “Mine.” “Mine!” “Give it!” Bang… Silence. I know the shooter. Smart, articulate First year in middle school Studying with headphones—Beats he called them. Asking deep questions Seeking complex answers Quoting Tupac and Jay-Z But survival on his block Translates school as “White people shit”. Only slick, stark self-preservation Was rewarded there. The Seventh Sense Of street survival. Cutting classes, Cursing teachers, Curtailing disrespect from peers At all costs. Take what you want! Command the room the block the bitches the boys. So when he wants his bro’s gun, He takes the weapon; Takes the shot; Takes the life. Takes the arrest, The parole violation. Takes his OG’s soul Her head in her hands in the court room. Takes residence in a cell No bail. Taking traded for youth, freedom and “potential” Barely a teenager Playing adult games And losing. Losing high school, And chess club. Losing a driver’s license and The right to vote. Losing his siblings and His chance to age. If tried and convicted as an adult He’ll be incarcerated 45 to life. Either way, life will be the sentence. For the rest of his years, days, hours and moments He will be dogged by the memory and Haunted by the choices He didn’t make: To walk away, To let go of the gun, To put friendship over face-saving And laugh at his own pretension Stuck at fourteen forever. Trauma imprints Even if denied by bluster He can’t out-run out-shout out-shoot or fake out His own fledgling soul. I knew the victim; I know the shooter. Again.
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Laura Lindeman is a new poet who has just decided to submit some poetry for publication with the help of a friend. This poem is a political poem focusing on gun violence, and as you will read, is based on her knowing, as a teacher, two teenagers before they became shooter and victim in a real-life tragedy. The poem speculates based on material revealed in news reports, but the poet has no first-hand knowledge of the crime itself.
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Editor’s note: In late May, “a second teenager [was] arrested in relation to the shooting death of 16-year-old Montrell Emery of Urbana. —WAND, May 30, 2023.
Bravo Laura Lindeman for this insightful perspective on this tragic incident in C-U. My poem in NVN on 4/11 references this in the last two lines (https://thenewversenews.substack.com/p/newversenews-tuesday-you-ban-books). Keep writing your poems! We need more discussion of the real reasons young people are carrying guns.